Breadth
by Emu Snare
Summary: Planet SR-388 lies outside the influence of federation law. Without moderation, its entire system has been shrouded in mystery following Samus' previous visit. Now, as her hunter-class gunship drifts once more towards the gravitational field of the toxic planet, she struggles to comprehend what she may find. - Rated M for graphic violence and sexual content.
1. A Familiar Voyage

**Author's note:** Hello, all. Welcome to my very first fiction.

Before we get started, I'd like to propose a request. Considering that this is in fact my first story, I am releasing the first chapter as a preview for now. Chapters two and three are currently written and edited, though I shall hold these documents from the public for the time being. Why? Well... I haven't gotten to my request yet...

As a new entry into the fan fiction community, rosy cheeks and smooth skin and all... I simply request feedback. I'd like to see what the community wants before I place too much of this story on the table. So speak up. Please, show me my faults. Show me them and then rub my nose in.

Now let's get to the story! Contextually, this occurs between Super Metroid and Metroid Fusion... There aren't any games between those two, right? Didn't think so... Moving on. Regarding the Legend of Zelda timeline, this could really occur at any point - Most likely later on (I apologize in advance for not being intimately familiar with the Legend of Zelda timeline...). Anyways, be warned that this story contains graphic violence and sexual content. Viewer discretion is advised.

Obligatory: I do not own any of the characters or settings in this story. That was all Nintendo.

**Chapter 1**

_A Familiar Voyage_

Samus' eyes blinked furiously, an automatic reaction to the steady trickle of blood that flowed downward from a long gash parallel to her hairline. The inside of her helmet pressed roughly against her left temple, suggesting that her armour had faltered to a vicious blow from the outside. The bounty hunter's lone comfort was her quarry lying motionless before her. Teeth still bared in a final snarl of hatred, claws seemingly poised to strike, the creature released its last breath.

Samus lowered herself to one knee; blood loss combined with the pressure against her skull was making her nauseous. The shattered fragments of what had been her visor decorated the ground upon which she stood. Her vision faded, the steady ringing in her ears was Samus' only assurance of her consciousness. Samus slowed her breathing, patiently waiting for the unpleasant feelings to ebb.

To keep herself vigilant, she briefly recalled her mission details. She had been assigned by the Galactic Federation to terminate a large beast that was hindering the development of planet Norion. The creature was quite aggressive, and was deemed to be a threat towards construction crews looking to build upon its territory. Needless to say, she was successful. As her vision returned, Samus hastily transmitted an image of the fallen creature to the Olympus, a large battleship that orbited the planet.

Encounters of this calibre were somewhat of a rarity on Norion. Originally, the planet was unable to sustain life beyond that of microscopic organisms. However, the Galactic Federation artificially terraformed Norion in order to construct a military base on the surface. The planet was now comprised of flourishing green forests, an ideal habitat for many species. Still, any animal that had managed to make its way into these forests was likely an artificial creation. Samus could tell that this was the case for her target, which had an unnatural transparent hide.

Samus inhaled deeply and rose to her feet. Fortunately, she had landed her ship nearby. As she approached it, her hand grazed a small section along the collar of her suit. The armour glowed briefly before it dematerialized, leaving Samus in a form-fitting blue garb. Samus stepped onto a metal disc directly below her ship's hull, which in turn transported her to the ship's interior. She stumbled towards the rear of her gunship, where a small washbasin was concealed beyond a thin metal door.

She promptly twisted the handle to the right of the sink, actuating a rapid flow of cold water from the tap. Cupping her hands in the path of the stream, Samus gathered a handful of the liquid and splashed it onto her face. As she lifted her head, she carefully examined her reflection, assessing her physical condition.

The left half of her face was primarily caked with blood. Samus winced at the sight, and cursed herself silently. She shouldn't have allowed herself to acquire such injuries. Luckily, the relentless flow of blood had evidently ceased. Samus soaked a thick white cloth and held it against her forehead. A wave of vertigo swept over her, nearly bringing Samus to her knees again. Feeling drained, she slumped back into her pilot's seat and closed her eyes. A rare comfort amongst the metallic wastelands of mankind, the seat gently reclined as it adjusted to Samus' tendency.

How long could this continue, this reckless lifestyle that she had become accustomed to? For almost seven years, she had willingly answered the Federations cries for help. Those years had shown her no remorse, no mercy. One pain had dulled another, and eventually Samus had been able to bury old scars beneath new wounds. The injuries that she had sustained served as a reminder of her mortality, they warned her that her fighting strength would inevitably fail someday. When that day came, it could very well be her last. Samus squeezed her eyelids tightly together. She didn't want to tempt fate, though thoughts of the future were vastly preferable to those of her past. Samus sighed inwardly and settled more deeply into her chair, desperately seeking an escape from her own imagination.

"Samus, do you copy?"

A voice barked at her through a speaker on her ship's dashboard. Samus pressed a small button to the left of some radar equipment, allowing her indifferent grunt to be heard by her unknown contact.

"Samus, you've been cleared for docking bay 14SSW. Commander Foremann wishes to discuss something with you personally."

Samus gripped the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Evidently, news of her recent success had reached command. Of course, the meeting could only mean another assignment. The Federation seemed to content to cry for her help whenever they deemed it necessary. While their glaring dependence was cause for annoyance, the Federation was the very basis of Samus' existence. Pondering this fallacy, she found herself grinning. It was a gentle grin; a rare expression of amusement which Samus generally attempted to stifle. The smile slid from her face as a subconscious response, as if her brain was too weary to regulate her facial expressions. When Samus managed to compose herself, she punched in the coordinates that would guide her ship to 14SSW.

Lush forests became dull concrete and transparent glass panels as Samus' ship traveled into Federation territory. A dull hum was audible here, a permanent reminder of humanity's presence. The soft droning added to the ever-present sombre atmosphere of Norion's capital. While the aircraft automatically manoeuvred itself towards her destination, Samus occupied herself by washing her face. The dried blood easily flaked off as she ran her washcloth along the surface, exposing the bare skin underneath. Samus knew that anyone of status within the Federation went through great pains to appear formal in public. While she didn't quite understand why, Samus respected this quirk enough to make herself look presentable when accepting a bounty contract.

Her ship slowed to a crawl as it entered a crowded airspace, and Samus was forced to take manual control. A blinking light marked the location of the docking bay in this area. Samus steered herself towards the beacon, and stopped her forward momentum completely as she hovered over a bare, flat expanse of concrete. The steady roar of her ship's engines ceased. Samus stood in the center of her ship, lowering the metal disk beneath her to the ground.

A tall structure loomed in front of Samus, greedily occupying her vision. Samus made her way towards the building, passing between two small Federation ships that framed the entrance. Indoors, the building matched the dismal, hackneyed landscape that surrounded it. Samus' feet clattered loudly against the metal flooring. She took a few moments to survey the area. Several people in pale unitards were huddled around a screen that occupied an otherwise bare wall. One of them turned when Samus entered, but quickly resumed discussion with his companions. Eventually, Samus continued towards an elevator located to the left of the entrance.

Quite unusual, she thought, to be accepting an official contract in what was obviously a public facility. Missions assigned within communal buildings were often inhumane, or simply unimportant. As a general rule, Samus avoided taking responsibility for civil disputes or criminal requests, though she had betrayed her own morals several times on previous missions. Receiving summons from a Federation Commander denoted significance and urgency, however. This contradiction puzzled Samus; she had no idea what to expect as she stepped out of the lift.

The top floor was nearly identical in appearance to the ground floor; an unremarkable room comprised almost entirely of cold, colourless metal. This particular room lacked a screen, though. Instead, there was a rectangular window along the back wall, which overlooked a large urban region. The view from such a high vantage point seemed to contain all five hundred shades of gray that Samus' human eyes were capable of seeing. Hardly a view worth an extra pane of glass, she thought.

"Ms. Aran, I presume?"

An older man wearing a startling blue vest approached her. He had a sickly sort of look about him. His voice was hoarse, his cheeks were hollow, and his wiry silver hair was thin and unkempt. Two Federation officers, clad in full body armour, stood a respectful distance behind the man.

Samus recognized Foremann's name, she was certain that she had embarked upon missions for the man in the past, though she couldn't recall any of them specifically. His appearance to her now was completely unfamiliar, so she could not have met him in person prior to this particular instance. Briefly, Samus wondered what could render this meeting necessary, amongst his previously remote contracts.

Samus regarded the commander collectedly, answering his question with a curt nod.

"It's an honour to meet you, my name is Lyle Foremann. Congratulations on your recent success. I've heard many good things about you."

Samus didn't respond. His words sounded empty. She didn't doubt his knowledge of her work, though she was sure he didn't fully understand it; he was simply trying to make her acquaintance.

Noticing Samus' disposition, Foremann cleared his throat awkwardly and decided to continue.

"I suspect you already know that it is my duty to propose a contract to you."

A green, holographic image emerged from a projector on the floor. It roughly depicted planet Norion, along with several other planets within the same system.

"A few days ago, we lost contact with a Federation carrier that was bound for Bryyo." The hologram panned to the aforementioned planet. "There were several thousand Federation employees on board. It would be a shame to have to replace that many people."

An image of the carrier was projected, with several Federation fighter ships flanking it. It was quite magnificent, larger than any carrier Samus had seen before, even larger than the Olympus.

"Its cargo consisted of vaccines, medical equipment, and... ehem... felons."

"It was a prison?" Samus raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

"Well... yes. Of a sort. Regardless, we lost contact three days ago, shortly after we were notified of a security breach on the ship."

"Is that all?"

"No. The ship recently changed its course. It turned away from Bryyo completely before it entered hyperspace. None of our tracking teams have been able to locate it since."

"What makes you think I can find it, then?"

He paused before replying, meaningfully gazing directly into Samus' eyes, "Its course." Foremann looked at Samus expectantly.

Samus thought about this for a moment, trying to create a mental map of the area. She didn't need to think for long, though. The hologram zoomed outward until Bryyo was too small to see. The image panned, zoomed, and rotated until it focused on one system in particular. It contained two relatively small planets separated by an asteroid belt, orbiting a white dwarf star. Samus instantly recognized the area, having visited it once before.

"As an official Federation Commander, I'm not authorized to send any of my employees into uncharted territory. This is a system that has been traversed by one person alone... You." It was at this moment that Samus allotted several seconds to examine Foremann's face. His skin hung loosely around his jowls, a testament to his age and experience amongst a crowd of surgically altered military officials. Samus guessed the man was quite attractive in his youth, as evidenced by the chiselled jaw line now barely visible underneath sagging flesh. His cheekbones were clearly defined, though in his old age this seemingly positive trait simply contributed to a disturbing impression of malnourishment. Most startling, however, were the commander's eyes. They were clearly affected by heterochromia; his right eye was a fierce electric blue, while his left was a much more passive shade of green tinted with hazel. This simplistic yet unique physical trait seemed to divide his entire character in two. While his left half regarded Samus in a cool, collective fashion, his right side seemed to judge her critically, not missing a moment of Samus' responses. Unnerved, Samus forced her gaze onto the hologram in front of her, surveying a planetary system which she had indeed explored in person before.

"You think the ship landed on SR-388?" Samus was sceptical. SR-388 was a planet that she had been to only once. It was dark, desolate, and inhospitable to most species. If the ship had landed there, most of the passengers could already be dead.

"Not necessarily. The one thing we are certain of is that the carrier was on a direct course for that system, it could just as easily be on SR-227." Foremann fixed Samus once more with his unnatural gaze.

Unlikely, Samus thought. The ship wasn't nimble enough to navigate through an asteroid belt. Besides, the pilots would have to contend with a ship full of unrestrained criminals. There wouldn't be time or reason for such precise flying. Samus didn't raise these concerns, however, and instead allowed Foremann to continue his briefing.

"Your task isn't quite as straightforward as it sounds, though... You see, the ship harboured criminals that were destined for... capital punishment. One individual in particular, Sandra Beckinson, is quite volatile." The elderly man paused for a moment, choosing his next words carefully, "She's the type of person that wouldn't let a security breach go unpunished. There isn't any telling as to what she's done so far, but..." Foremann trailed off, a worried expression plagued his face.

Samus cracked a mischievous grin. "Well if they're all set for polishing, it shouldn't be much of a problem anyways." She sobered herself quickly, realizing that she had dropped her guard.

The commander, too, seemed to regain his seriousness. "I would prefer not to lose the employees currently stationed on the ship. Some of those men have family on this very planet." Foremann remained fairly composed as he advocated for the preservation of his officers, though his next words were spoken with less certainty. "Besides... There are other valuables that I hope to salvage from the ship."

"So... I find the ship, off Beckinson and all's swell?"

"Uh... look... Samus... The carrier... Beckinson, she..." Again, the Commander seemed to be at a loss for words. He stared into Samus' eyes for a moment, perhaps trying to gauge her thoughts. After a few moments, he continued, "I am merely concerned for your safety." He smiled briefly, and rolled his weight back onto his heels.

The hologram flickered briefly before it faded. Samus glanced downwards while her eyes adjusted to the sudden lack of artificial light within the room. Foremann seemed to be flustered, perhaps there was some information that he wasn't willing to share with her.

The commander let out a huff of exasperation. "Do you fully understand the terms of your contract, then? Do you accept the mission?"

Samus considered this for only a few moments before she shrugged. "Sure." No sense in prolonging the meeting, she reasoned. Whatever verbal explanations were provided here could be made much clearer through direct investigation.

Foremann nodded in acknowledgement. "Then I hold you to your word. I anxiously await your return."

Samus turned to go, but paused as the Commander added, "Also, Samus, please don't hesitate to contact me as soon as you've finished..." With a distant look in his eyes, he turned on his heel and exited through a plain metal door that Samus hadn't noticed before. The two Federation officers nodded to Samus before following him.

Sandra Beckinson... one woman among thousands of criminals. It seemed almost cruel, as if the Federation had drawn her name out of a hat. After all, there were soldiers on board. Could they not handle the burden of killing her? Was she significant in some way, or did Foremann place the hit out of some misplaced fear of her? Whatever the case, Samus was sure that she couldn't pose much of a threat.

Otherwise, her task seemed simple enough. Though, Foremann's report did hold some inconsistencies that seemed quite relevant to her success. For instance, was the ship still under Federation control, or had the prisoners somehow managed to overpower the soldiers? The former seemed more likely, though the latter made more sense in relation to the rest of the report. If the carrier was still under Federation control, why did the pilots turn and enter hyperspace? Exactly how many prisoners were on board? Samus struggled to make sense of her mission while she boarded her ship.

Obviously, she had to start somewhere. The most logical location to search first would be SR-388, though Samus was strangely reluctant to visit that planet for a second time. SR-227 was in close proximity, yet Samus doubted the carrier's ability to traverse through an asteroid belt.

Her gunship slowly rose from the concrete, stirring up stray leaves and stones. The steady hum of the engines increased in pitch until it reached an inaudible frequency. The ship stabilized for a brief moment, before it jolted forward, reaching incredible speeds before it directed its course upwards, cutting through Norion's atmosphere.

As Samus entered the cold, lifeless depths of space, she considered her task further. In the distance, she could barely make out the shape of planet Bryyo. What business did the carrier have on that planet? Why were criminals being transported there, when they could have just as easily been killed on the ship? Samus shook her head. She knew that none of these questions could be answered; at least, not yet.

Besides, did she really need to know these details? No, of course not. She was a bounty hunter; all she needed was a target.

Samus' gaze hardened. Within a week, Sandra Beckinson would be nothing but a memory.

Samus directed her ship towards SR-388. Buttons were pressed, switches were flipped, and the hunter-class gunship became a blur as it entered hyperspace.


	2. Bodice

**Author's note:** I am aware that this is a shorter chapter. You will most likely understand why this is so after reading it. I assure you that the third chapter is quite long, and is simply in need of some polish before being published. Keep in mind that these first few chapters were written months ago; they certainly needed some dusting off.

Obligatory: I do not own any of the characters or settings in this story. That was all Nintendo.

**Chapter 2**

Sunlight dappled the forest floor, weaving its way through the thick green canopy overhead. A gentle breeze found its way through the dense maze of tree trunks, bringing with it the deliciously sweet scent of pond lilies. Delicate curtains of lichen draped over the highest branches, casting a complex web of shadows. The day was new; had it not been for the leaves dancing in the tame draft, the scenery could be mistaken as an elaborate portrait.

Throughout the woods, the trees seemed to softly whisper, calling adventurous souls deeper into the unknown. Day by day, she found herself answering those calls, stepping lightly, as if she was afraid to disrupt the serene ambience. The trees seemed to mirror her cautious demeanour, creating a thick sense of tension. A wispy veil of fog obscured the leaf litter, and wrapped gently around her ankles as she walked.

The silence was nearly deafening; as she distanced herself from civilisation the clamor of humanity ebbed. Such carelessness, an entire society surrounded by the delicate constructs of undiscovered subtleties, perhaps watching and waiting and judging. Had the forest been granted the blessing of thought, so to look down upon her and her wretched upbringing with scorn?

Her surroundings were still familiar. Her eyes were able to seek landmarks that were unbeknownst to most people. Further she traveled, searching intently for signs of variation among the relentless expanse of greenery. She squinted her eyes and pressed forward. Several times, she felt cobwebs graze her forearms, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

At long last, the forest seemed to open. A small clearing interrupted the thick stretch of foliage. A smile of satisfaction crossed her lips. She settled on her back in the middle of the glade, allowing the cool grass to caress the nape of her neck. She rested this way for hours, and watched as the sun lazily made its way across the sky. The forest around her seemed to stir contrarily to the girl's lethargy. The air became thick and heavy, seemingly encumbered by the shrill sounds of insects and the pungent odours of awakening flowers. Birds flitted unnoticed among the canopies of green.

Her eyelids began to droop. The world was consumed by semidarkness as fatigue gradually pulled her into the soothing depths of slumber.

"Hah! I knew you'd be here, Zelda."

Zelda let out a quiet gasp, and quickly sat upwards. She turned towards the source of the voice. "Link, you startled me! Don't sneak up on me like that," Zelda complained.

"Heh..." Link took a few steps in her direction, looking pleased with himself. "What's so great about this place, anyways?"

"It's nice." Zelda lay back again, closing her eyes and absorbing the radiant warmth of the sun. "Besides, it's refreshing to have some peace and quiet once in a while." She opened one eye and looked accusingly at Link.

Link frowned and sat near Zelda, folding his legs neatly. "Oh, come on. I'm not that bad, am I?"

Zelda smiled and closed her eyes again, but said nothing, answering his question with silence.

Link pouted briefly, but didn't continue the mock argument. He combed the grass with his fingers. It was pleasantly soft, like velvet, very different from the dry carpet of leaves that covered the forest floor. The cool turf was a perfect contrast to the sunlight, which was agonizingly warm. Link removed his cap and ruffled his hair with one hand. Already, his scalp was producing warm beads of sweat. "Well, unfortunately, I didn't find you just to chat. Your father sent me to fetch you."

Zelda hummed thoughtfully. She was still drowsy from lying in place for so long, and she was only half-listening to Link. Her fingers lazily traced the intricate patterns that adorned her dress.

Link could tell that he didn't have her full attention, so he decided to get her talking instead, "Why do you think he wants to see you?"

Zelda raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it obvious?" She stifled a yawn before sitting up, bringing her knees to her chest. "He wants me to take a larger part in governing Hyrule... After all..." Zelda trailed off uncomfortably, and started to trace the designs on her dress again.

"Oh, that's right! You're almost twenty-one! So..." Link adopted a mischievous expression. "How's it feel? I mean, you're gonna be a full-fledged princess soon. Aren't you excited?"

Zelda gave an unhappy shrug. "Kind of, well... not really. I'm nervous, actually. This whole thing seems kind of overwhelming."

"Why? It'll be fun!" Link leaned back, supporting his weight with the heels of his hands. "You'll be able to do whatever you want, it's not like anyone could argue. So what's the big deal?"

"It's not like that!" Zelda let out an impatient sigh. "It's just... Everyone's been looking at me lately... as if they think I'm destined to be some sort of great ruler that can solve all the town's problems. I think people expect too much of me..."

Link cast a sidelong glance in her direction. "Well, it's not like you're one to make mistakes, anyways. Who knows? Maybe you'll be good at it."

Zelda frowned. "Forget it..." She started to pluck blades of grass from the soil, gently easing them upwards in an attempt to expose their tender white roots.

As she retained her pensivity, Link's brow slowly furrowed with concern. He was never much in the way of an advisor, as he was the one generally requiring guidance and coercion. He considered placing a hand on her shoulder, but decided against it. Knowing the princess for so many years, it was hard to imagine her as anything but the strong-willed individual she had chosen to portray herself as. Occasionally, it seemed that the people he was closest to disquieted him the most with their emotion.

The area dimmed momentarily as a small cloud passed over the sun. Almost instantly there was a drop in temperature, which quelled the characteristic drone of warmth. An uncomfortable silence ensued, making Link squirm restlessly. "You know, you shouldn't even be this far into the Lost Woods."

"Link, I've been here several times before. It seems safe enough."

"Sure, sure. That's because it's luring you into a false sense of security. Nothing's happened yet, but let your guard down for a second and..." Link broke off, looking from side to side, as if he expected the trees themselves to uproot and attack them.

Zelda let out a soft chuckle, amused at Link's irrational fear.

"I'm serious!" His expression was indeed serious. "Haven't you ever heard the tale of Hikal, the girl who got lost in the forest?"

"No I haven't. Please, enlighten me." Zelda turned to face Link, listening intently.

"Well, you see... There was a girl, named Hikal... Anyways, she caused her parents a lot of grief. Every night she seemed to be coming home later." Link loudly cleared his throat. "But she wasn't like any of the other young girls in the village... She wasn't spending her time with some boy, she didn't drink, and she had always been kind and considerate." Link paused to make sure Zelda was still listening.

"So, what happened?" Zelda pressed.

"Well, as it turned out, she had been going to the Lost Woods. She ventured deeper and deeper every day, as if she was in a trance. It worried her parents terribly. Each night they lay awake in bed, listening for her return. One night, they realized that they had lain awake 'til the dawn."

Zelda raised one eyebrow and smirked gently, surprised that Link's serious demeanor hadn't lifted. "What happened to Hikal?"

"On that night, she had ventured so far into the woods that her legs began to tremble in exhaustion. She collapsed at the foot of a tree, and drifted off to sleep." Link paused for dramatic effect. "Nobody ever saw her again. Some say that as she slept, the tree wrapped its roots around her helpless body and encased her in bark. Now, when she tries to speak, acorns fly out of her mouth instead of words, and she-" Link stopped talking as he realized that Zelda had begun to giggle.

"Link... that's ridiculous. Nursery tales like that are just meant to get children home by their curfew."

Link sniffed, mildly embarrassed. "Fine, then! If something bad happens, though... Don't say I didn't warn you." He got to his feet stiffly and stretched his legs in turn. "I'm gonna go and find something for lunch. Want to come with me?"

Zelda settled onto her back again. "No, thank you. I'll stay here for awhile longer."

"Suit yourself." Link replaced his cap and stalked off in the direction of Hyrule, loudly crashing through the undergrowth as he went.

Zelda let her thoughts wander. Her initial conversation with Link had bothered her. "What if I _am_ one to make mistakes..."She muttered to herself. It worried her terribly; being the center of attention had always made her uneasy. In a few months, though, the whole town would be watching her. They would offer silence in return for her triumphs, yet cry for her blood when she slipped-up. Zelda started kneading the material of her dress anxiously.

Though she didn't doubt his political superiority, Zelda had grown distant from her father in recent years. To him, the reputation of the monarchy transcended his paternal duties. Zelda knew that his tendencies were necessary for the continued prosperity of the kingdom, though she still resented him for his abrupt change of character as she aged. She longed for the days when she could speak to him about difficulties in school, ask him for personal advice, or when he would sit by her bedside and tell her stories of grandeur, heroism and triumph. As she reminisced, she released a heavy sigh provoked by nostalgia.

She missed the stories the most. When did the fantastical tales of her youth make way for the dull repetition of maturity and responsibility? Why was she now expected to disregard her own interests when they were accommodated with such enthusiasm from her family and peers as a child?

Zelda's eyes once again drifted to the patterns upon her garment. They were so perfect, so elegant. As the gentle weaves of fabric expanded outwards they formed a collective aesthetic piece, one which was much greater than the sum of its abstract parts. It was truly the work of an artist, the tailor who had fashioned such cloth had likely made a fair amount of rupees from his work. Yes, the tailor, living his admirable existence of weaving incomprehensible nonsense; beautiful, nonetheless. Her finger traced yet another line, tipped with a golden flourish, framed delicately by similar patterns. She hated it.

The sun had barely touched the horizon when Zelda rose to her feet. She had kept her father waiting long enough. Zelda trudged reluctantly through the forest, which was now bathed in an orange hue as the sun sank.


End file.
